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sympathy poem

the pale day drowses on the western steep
i stood by the open casement
old wine to drink
i am old and blind
not from the whole wide world
i loathed you
let us pity those who are better off than we are
in may
with her hair flaying wildly
listen to the sounding sea
the rain was over, and the brilliant air
mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam
melancholy days have come

 



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